We Dodged a Bullet

The photo above, taken on my cell phone, is a picture of the sun making its appearance between the two buildings on the morning after the storm. 

Monday morning after the storm.  We got about 8 inches here.  Not bad at all. Now comes the sloppy part.  City snow never looks pretty for very long.  In one day it turns into a dirty, gray, icy slosh.  Needless to say, I move fairly slow on these days.  Actually, I didn't get to seem much of it.  The bulk of the storm occurred at night during sleep hours, and by the time I arose on Saturday, the prettiness had already begun to wear off.

I was so glad this wasn't a cooking weekend for me.  For one thing, we had plenty of food on hand since cooking weekend is also shopping weekend....and, I didn't have to venture out in the snow to buy anything. Last weekend I tossed a few ingredients into the pot and made a chicken soup that was out of this world.  I took containers out for my Saturday lunch and, along with some white rice, a Sunday dinner. Ingredients included: chicken, red, yellow, orange, and green peppers, carrots, celery, spinach, tomatoes, onions, no salt chicken broth, garlic powder, rosemary, fresh basil, and a touch of cayenne to add a little spice to it.  I always use different colored peppers when I cook, something I learned way back when when I took a course in catering.  We tend to eat with our eyes first, and the even the simplest foods taste amazing when they look pretty.   

On Saturday I made some applesauce.  I'd told hubby to buy me some fruit for snacks as we prepared for the storm, and he'd forgotten that I cannot digest apples so he came home with six of the most beautiful apples I'd ever seen.  Made my mouth water to look at them, but I knew better than to even try so I cooked them up. Afterwards, I just sat in front of a marathon of Valentine's Day love stories on Hallmark and did some off and on reading. Finished my book on birds and picked up "On the Right Path: Walking Through God to Get to the Goddess" by Tara Black, a somewhat true story of one woman's  transition from Christianity to witchcraft. Here is the book description:

From hallelujahs to spells, and crosses to cauldrons, On the Right Path:Walking Through God to Get to the Goddess, is the story of one woman trudging her way through Christianity and organized religion, until she found the right path for her. That path happened to be Witchcraft.
Tara is a confused child with open minded parents, stuck in a fundamental Baptist school. This contrast fuels her on a life-long journey to discover what it all really means. After a failed stint as a wanna-be pastor, she stumbles onto Witchcraft and slowly discovers the Goddess.
Funny, serious, and informative, this story takes you through a struggle to live without the confines of organized religion through the eyes of a woman.

  

It's not my usual type of book, but I have to say, it is truly engaging and I love it. There are parts of it that remind me of the young me who searched for belonging during childhood.  And, although my church was very liberal, I could relate to the author on several levels--fear of going to hell, thinking myself as 'bad', feeling like the 'odd girl out', and bursts of hyper religiosity in order to 'save' myself. 

And so now, it is time to shower and prepare myself to venture outdoors and onward to work.  After being housebound for three days, it certainly isn't easy.  It's weekends like this that remind me how easy it would be for me to become a hermit.

Hoping you all have a great Monday and a fantastic week. 

TGIF

Out of the bosom of the Air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(Scene from our last storm)

Hip Hip Hooray.  It's Friday, and I took a vacation day, a 'real' vacation day, not one where I have to run to see a doctor or go for some medical test.  This day is MINE. The whole weekend is mine.  No cooking.  No shopping.  Just me in my jammies for three days.  And, I will finally be able to sit in my rocker, by the window, and watch a snowfall.  

Actually, I decided to ask for the day when I heard the weather report.  I don't get around too well in this kind of weather anymore.  And, I am afraid of slipping and falling.  That could put me out of commission for who knows how long.  Used to laugh when I slipped and fell in the snow.  It is not so funny to me anymore.

Last night coming home from work it was obvious a storm was on its way. The air was cold, crisp and there was that heaviness in the air, and even though the streets were crowded with cars and people surrounded me there was that muffled silence that signifies that snow will soon be here.  Hubby and I are well prepared. He was due to pick up his meds tomorrow, but I chased him out this morning to get them.  Last week was a cooking weekend so we have plenty of food. All we need is a few snacks.  I know this may sound silly, but I really had the urge for ice cream. 

I always have plenty of candles on hand so that is not an issue and flashlights, batteries, water and other supplies we had in place for Superstorm Sandy and didn't need. My Kindle and phone have both been fully charged. My only fear of is loss of power and connection with the outside world. They say it is going to be a rough one, beautiful, but rough. Prepare my friends.  All in the line of the storm, please be sure to be prepared.

O the snow, the beautiful snow,

Filling the sky and earth below;

Over the house-tops, over the street,

Over the heads of the people you meet,

Dancing, flirting, skimming along.

James W. Watson

Please, everyone, be safe.  See you all on Monday.

One Billion Rising, February 14, 2013

 Please spread far and wide.

The following was posted on I Am Woman but I thought it important enough to be posted here is well.  Valentine's Day this year will be about more than candy and flowers.  Indeed, this is a day for women...and men, to rise up and take a stand against the violence imposed on women the world over.  One in every three women on the planet will be raped or beaten during her lifetime.  It's time to end this violence.  That is why Eve Ensler wants YOU to join her campaign.  

Events are planned throughout the world.  To find an event near you Go here.  Personally, I have signed up to attend a screening of the film "From Fear to Freedom Ending Violence Against Women". As a survivor, this day is so important to me that I plan a vacation day around it. 

ONE BILLION RISING will move the earth, activating women and men across every country. V-Day wants the world to see our collective strength, our numbers, our solidarity across borders.

http://onebillionrising.org/

Will you be one of the One Billion Rising this Valentine's Day?

Leave your work, leave your school, interrupt the day, dance, and demand an end to the violence!

Join V-Day on 

02.14.13

Wednesday Ramble

But by taking the time away, getting myself off the treadmill, and just slowing down and learning, I felt I had so much more to give back. And maybe thatwas something that needed to happen for all of us.

Lindsey Buckingham

Well, here we are, half the week already over.  I took off work yesterday. I was really feeling burned out. After grabbing a few extra hours of much needed sleep, I spent part of the day glued to a "Outer Limits" marathon.  This was not the old version, but a newer version of some great psychological dramas.  Hubby's cold has turned into bronchitis, and I've not gotten a decent sleep in over a week. He coughs all night, even in his sleep.  On Sunday, he coughed so hard that he blacked out.  Now, that was scary when he went down in the hallway.  

Besides, it was dreadfully cold with light snow in the morning. I know my boss probably thinks it is the snow that scared me off because I already told him I'm scared of falling, but the fact is, the snow had nothing to do with it. I just didn't have it in me.  Used to be that nothing stopped me from going to work, but that is when I 'loved' it and my body didn't hurt so much.  Aging has slowed me down which can be a 'good' thing, especially for someone who has lived their life as a workaholic.  I never took off.  In fact, when I left my last job to come here they paid me for five weeks vacation, but I lost 56 hours vacation, two personal days, and 153 hours of sick time...all because I never took a day off.  I'm determined not to let that happen this time.

Speaking of cold weather, for the life of me, I cannot understand how these young women do it.  How can they wear ultra short skirts when it is 20 degrees or high heels on those icy days.  Instead of snow boots one sees them 'looking' pretty in those spiked heels, and the odd thing is, nothing seems to bother them...unless they are better actresses than I am. My legs get cold just by looking at them. To be honest, in my youth I, too, wanted to look pretty, but never at the expense of comfort. I've never liked being cold.

Not that I was a prude.  I've been known to wear a short skirt now and then.  After all, I came of age during the time of the mini, and although I preferred, and still do, the long flowing skirts of the hippies, I did have occasion to don an outfit that fell well above the knee.  Bet you're surprised to learn that one of my early jobs here in the city had a dress code that involved wearing a red bodysuit while tending bar.

But, that was then and this now, and I know now that 'true beauty' comes from within.  It is not dependent on how much cleavage or leg we show. True beauty comes from within and lasts forever. It is not what we look like, but it is who we are. It begins within the heart.

The difference between pretty and beautiful is-pretty is temporal-whereas beautiful is eternal.

Author Unknown

Soul Sisters

I’ve been more in touch with my own anxiety and sadness. I’ve allowed myself not to hide it under a pile of achieving busy-ness. I’m allowing myself to cry when I feel sad…..and then I feel better….more balanced, whole…That’s part of me, too. 

Lately I have had the feeling that something is missing from my life. I have a wonderful caring husband whom I love with all my heart and two very special boys, but I lack "Soul Sisters".  Since I began blogging, I found all of you and cherish the friendships that we have built. You all mean the world to me, but what I am talking about are those friendships that we make during childhood that remain with us forever, those friends who attend our wedding, those friends with whom we shared experiences of motherhood, those friends who, although they may move away never lose contact, those lifelong friendships that carry so much meaning. I cannot really say that I am unhappy.  Perhaps what is really bothering me is curiousity.  What happened to all of my classmates? Are they remembering me as I remember them?

"Soul Sisters", with the author's wonderful tales of lifelong friendships, made me so aware of that part of my life that I gave up so many years ago. It was me who 'chose' to part ways in my early twenties, and I never cared about looking back...until now. I was young, and very, very impulsive in my youth.  I tended to dive right into things without forethought and was sure that I knew what was best for me. And that meant cutting ties with everything to do with my past....and that included all my friends. One of those silly little mistakes we make in our youth that one day we live to regret.

I can recall a night some 40 odd years ago.  It was about two weeks before I packed up and moved to the city. I received a telephone call from an old friend who I had grown up with. My fondest memories were of picking tomatoes from her father's garden and making tomato sandwiches, gobbed with mayo. Oh, how we loved those lunches. Well, that night I had been surprised to hear her voice on the phone because it had been quite a few years.  We'd lost contact when my mom pulled me out of the school and sent me elsewhere, thinking a geographical change was all her 'wild child' needed. It never occurred to her that maybe the fixing had to come she and my dad.

She asked me how I was doing, and then said something I never forgot. "I envy you because you are such a free spirit.  I'm young, yet saddled to a marriage I don't really want." Mary Ann had done exactly as we women from our small town were supposed to do back then. We were supposed to get married right out of high school and raise our husband's children.  Women were not expected to do any more than that.  Mary Ann was the last person from my past who I spoke to. 

Names have been popping up in my memories, and I spent some time this past weekend Googling them, but found nothing. There was Elaine whose mom was generous enough to take me in when our house burned.  Elaine and her sister even loaned me clothes to wear to school.  Then, there was Carol and her brother who were the ones who finally clued me in that Santa did not exist.  Oh, I was mad at them for days. And, of course, there was Kathleen, my very first friend when I was 5 years old.  I still hear her voice outside my window, "Little girl.  Little girl.  Can you come out to play?"  That was a friendship that could have been lifelong had her parents not moved her away...or perhaps I would turned away from her as well. 

This past weekend I  joined the Dover High School Alumni Group and left a message, hoping that someone will open it and respond, but so many years have passed that I wonder if they remember me as I remember them. If there is no response then so be it, but at least I can say that I tried. And, it someone 'should' respond, I will be singing from the rooftops that someone did remember me, remembered that I was there. One of the best closing lines ever from a  film comes from  "Gangs of New York"...

In the end, they put candles on the bodies so's their friends, if they had any, could know them in the dark. The city did this free of charge. Shang, Jimmy Spoils, Hell-cat, McGloin, and more. Friend or foe, didn't make no difference now. It was four days and nights before the worst of the mob was finally put down. We never knew how many New Yorkers died that week before the city was finally delivered. My father told me we was all born of blood and tribulation, and so then too was our great city. But for those of us what lived and died in them furious days, it was like everything we knew was mildly swept away. And no matter what they did to build this city up again... for the rest of time... it would be like no one even knew we was ever here.

I don't want that to be me. Thanks for letting me share today.

Monday Morning This and That

Happy Monday morning.  I had a great Imbolc even though I wasn't able to find my white candles.  I'd planned on stopping after work on Friday, but there was a huge water main break in the area where I work, and my train wasn't running.  Of course it had to happen just at my train station, on a Friday afternoon when all one wants is to get home, but then, things do happen that are beyond our control, and we have to learn to deal with them. Needless to say, my new route to get home consisted of three trains and a bus.  I knew this was going to take awhile so shopping went out the window, but just think about how good it felt when I finally did get home.

Not being able to get my candles was really the least of my problems. The break had been so huge that water pressure was extremely low around the area.  Hence, there were no restrooms to be found all the way down to 14th Street. I work on 25th Street, and the pipe busted on 23rd Street. Many of the area restaurants were forced to close. It happened while I was running my group, and as soon as I found out, I immediately felt as if I had to go. It was like how, as soon as you polish your nails, everything begins to itch. Ah, that magnificent the power of thought.

So, on Imbolc I cooked almost all day.  For dinner I made the cheddar, broccoli, and potato soup I spoke about, and right now, I am wishing I had made more.  It was so good, but unlike the other soups that I cook and freeze, I just don't think this one would do so well.  I was too darned tired to make my Irish Soda Bread, so we settled for biscuits.  Dessert consisted of seedless red grapes, swiss cheese, and walnuts.  (I love just throwing things together like that.)

The statue of Mary Magdalene that I had ordered didn't arrive, so my altar was devoid of goddess and white candles, but holidays and other special days are what we make of them.  My evening was spent with some quiet time and plans for new beginnings. 

You have to believe in happiness,

Or happiness never comes ...

h, that's the reason a bird can sing -

On his darkest day he believes in Spring.

Douglas Malloch

On Sunday, after my ironing, I began reading "The Healing Wisdom of Birds: An Everyday Guide to Their Spiritual Songs and Symbolism" by Lesley Morrison.  I've had it for awhile; I just didn't realize how darned good it was. I've always been fascinated with birds as evidenced by my almost obsession with the hummingbirds and eagles. This book examines the symbolism of our feathered friends by exploring goddess such as Aphrodite, Lakshmi, Freya, and Athena--to name a few--magical practices and the relationship they share with Shamans, religion, etc., and reveals how they can guide us today. I absolutely love it and find myself unable to put this book down, and I can only hope to get a seat on the way to work so I can get some reading done.

I've had birds off and on throughout my life, and each has taught me a lesson.  From the canaries of my youth, I learned of love...as well as the pain of loneliness.  Shortly after laying her eggs, the female died.  The male, heartbroken, followed shortly thereafter. From my deformed robin I learned that it is possible for one to transcend the boundaries of the wild and the civilized. He taught m about trust and the joy of friendship. And from my parakeets, with their joyous singing from morning til night, I learned that one can find pleasure and beauty in everything. 

Hoping you all have a great day.

Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these?

Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught

The dialect they speak, where melodies

Alone are the interpreters of thought?

Whose household words are songs in many keys,

Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Imbolc Blessings

If Candlemass day be dry and fair,
The half o' winter to come and mair
If Candlemass day be wet and foul.
The half o' winter gane at Yule.

Well, as another Friday rolls around, we enter February.  Imbolc has finally arrived.  I can't find the white candles I bought several months ago, so I plan to stop on the way home and buy some.  Hope I don't have to run around to much because on Friday, all I want to do is get home. This  is a shopping and cooking weekend, I plan to make the best of this Imbolc.  Actually, cooking won't be so bad.  It seems that I overcooked last time and have three meals still left for hubby and enough to last me two weeks.  But, I do want to make more black bean soup and some garlic chicken. 

Something happened this week that I just had to share with you.  Hubby's sister called him on Wednesday night and asked him not to go out on Thursday because she had a dream that something bad was going to happen, that someone was going to rob him.  Well, to make a long story short, he did go out out yesterday to move his car and discovered that  someone had broken into it.  They broke the window and took his GPS, but nothing else.  I'm so grateful that the insurance paid for it. For that I am so grateful.

Wow, time has flown by so quickly this morning that suddenly it is time to get ready for work. It's cold again outside, but hopes for Spring abound.  Love you all.  Wishing you all a wonderful weekend. May your Imbolc be one of love, joy, new beginnings, and peace. Many blessings to you all. See you on Monday.

“Perhaps on this Imbolc, Brighid will ignite some fire in me that will illuminate ways in which I can better align myself with the rhythms of the earth. Perhaps I will see in the mind of my heart some memory of a simpler time; an ancient world that my spirit belonged to, and still belongs to. Perhaps when that happens I will think of the ewe, and the newborn sheep, and I will see in them something true about the world, about myself, and about the Great Mystery to which we all belong.” 

 Teo Bishop